


Attitude Adjustment

by badgirlcarly



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Domestic Discipline, M/M, Over the Knee, Punishment, Spanking, corner time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgirlcarly/pseuds/badgirlcarly
Summary: Ray's attitude needs fixing.





	Attitude Adjustment

Ray should have known it was coming. He could feel himself pushing the limits with Crow Horse—brooding, cutting with sarcasm, talking back—but there was a kind of giddy rush that came with it. It was almost pleasurable. Still, he was playing with fire, and ended up being burnt.

It was late afternoon on a Sunday, their day off. They had been cooped up with each other for too long, maybe, and Ray felt himself pushing hard on Crow Horse’s buttons. The thrill of it raced through his veins; it was fun to see how close he could come to the edge of Crow Horse’s patience without falling over.

His calculations were off. One more smart comment, and Crow Horse was dragging him into the bedroom.

“You need an attitude adjustment in the worst way,” Crow Horse said.

Ray pouted. His heart raced; the rush was replaced with nerves as Crow Horse’s dark eyes bored into him.

“Go pick you out a belt,” Crow Horse said.

The color drained from Ray’s face. There was no more kidding around; this had just turned serious. He dragged his feet, but, squirming under Crow Horse’s no nonsense gaze, Ray went to the closet, his fingers running along the smooth leather of Crow Horse’s belts. These were the belts Crow Horse wore every day, soft with wear and curved a bit to the shape of his hips. There was no special belt specifically for whipping Ray’s ass, but somehow this was worse: the choice was in his hands, so everything that would be done after would be a result of his decision. It made Ray uncomfortable to own his punishment like that; it was easier when Crow Horse was in charge of everything, and Ray just had to endure it. This made him feel guilty. 

Lighter, thinner belts stung; heavier, thicker belts created a deep muscle ache. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, really, though depending on the length of the spanking, Ray preferred the heavier belts for long sessions, since he could only take so much of the sharp pain.

“How many am I getting?” Ray asked.

Crow Horse’s tone was sharp. “Enough that you learn a lesson.”

Ray frowned, but he knew not to push it. He selected a thick belt with Western tooling, and took it out to Crow Horse. Ray handed over the belt gingerly, watched Crow Horse bend the strap and then flex it in his hands. 

“Strip,” Crow Horse said. “Everything.”

Getting spanked naked wasn’t that much more humiliating than being spanked on the bare ass—and under Crow Horse’s roof, _every_ spanking was given on the bare—but there was something that made Ray feel small when he was naked and Crow Horse was fully dressed. Some balance of power that Ray was on the wrong end of. Ray took off his clothes, let them fall to a pile by the edge of the bed. Crow Horse took him by the arm, pulled him in close. Still standing, Crow Horse bent Ray over, holding his waist in the crook of his arm. Ray let his head droop, but the muscles in his legs strained. 

Crow Horse tapped the loop of the belt against Ray’s backside, not with any force, just enough to let Ray know it was there, enough for him to begin imagining what was coming. 

“Your attitude these past couple of days has been reprehensible. You been acting like a surly child, and, worse than anything, you’ve been disrespectful to me like I don’t mean nothing to you. This is going to end right now, today.”

Ray had nothing to say in his defense. 

“Can we just get this over with?” he said.

Crow Horse smacked the belt down across Ray’s backside, hard. Ray jumped.

“You ain’t in charge here,” Crow Horse said. “That’s part of what you got to learn. You answer to me; it’s one hundred percent my decision how this is gonna go.” Ray didn’t say anything; Crow Horse hit him again.

“Yes, _sir_,” Crow Horse said stiffly.

Ray lowered his head. “Yes, sir,” he repeated quietly.

“That’s better.”

Crow Horse drew the belt back, landed a savage blow to Ray’s backside. The force was enough to jerk Ray in Crow Horse’s grasp, and Ray gritted his teeth. Crow Horse didn’t give him a second to recover, though, starting up a fast tempo with vicious force.

It wasn’t fun anymore, riling Crow Horse up. The pain was at once sharp and deep, the initial burning slap permeating deep in the muscles. And Crow Horse wasn’t letting up any; he whipped Ray fast and hard. Ray started to cry out every time a ribbon of pain landed across his ass and thighs; he squirmed, but Crow Horse’s hold was competent. He was stuck, completely locked in to this punishment.

Crow Horse began to lecture him, his tone even if slightly breathless, punctuating each word with a snap of the belt. 

“You are gonna learn some respect. I will not have you sulking and snarking and talking back to me. It’s clear to me I let you get away with too much; from now on, I’m gonna use a much heavier hand with you.”

Sweat beaded at Ray’s hairline. A heavier hand than this? he wondered, and felt sick. He’d really done it this time, and it was his own fault; he had enjoyed being bad, had flouted Crow Horse’s authority deliberately. The belt cut raw stripes in the delicate skin of Ray’s backside, and his breath stuttered.

Finally, the belting stopped. Crow Horse held Ray by the waist, Ray’s head down and his trembling legs fighting to stay in position. After a minute, Crow Horse let Ray straighten up. He tapped the belt against his palm.

“Stay,” he said, and Ray didn’t move as Crow Horse put the belt back in the closet. He watched Crow Horse take the hard-seated wooden desk chair away from the desk and into the corner of the room. Then, Crow Horse produced a sheet of transparent plastic, something Ray had nightmares about. It was a piece of the pad they used beneath rolling desk chairs to keep the wheels to catching on the carpet. The bottom of those pads, Ray knew, was lined with hundreds of prickers, little plastic protrusions meant to latch the pad onto the carpet. Crow Horse had cut this one down to fit the seat of the desk chair, and he laid it with the rough side up. Ray felt nauseated; twice before he’d been made to sit on the cruel prickers with a raw butt, and it was the kind of pain you remembered.

“Come here,” Crow Horse said, and, for a lack of good options, Ray had no choice but to obey. 

Crow Horse sat Ray down in the hard desk chair, the prickers sticking up into his tender backside, his nose in the corner. 

“Stay,” Crow Horse said. “I promise you, you do not want to find out what happens if you leave this corner.”

Ray didn’t know what would happen, except it would be bad; he had always been too scared to find out. He tried not to shift on the prickers, as that would only make things worse and ignite Crow Horse’s ire, besides. He managed not to squirm much, but his legs were shaking, which vibrated his poor backside up and down against the plastic sheet, rubbing the raw flesh on the cruel prickers. 

Ray knew not to turn his head. He listened to Crow Horse behind him, the soft echo of his boots on the hardwood. He was watching him, probably. Ray knew the spanking wasn’t over; this was merely an intermission. In Crow Horse’s house, every spanking ended with Ray over his knee, getting a sound hand spanking. It hadn’t always been this way; when Crow Horse had first started to discipline him, they’d played things by ear a bit, experimenting with what Ray responded to best. It turned out that being laid out over Crow Horse’s lap, being popped on an already punished bottom, was what made the biggest impression. Ray knew that usually spankings went the other way around: first a warm up with the hand, and _then_ the heavier stuff. It just didn’t work that way with him, and Crow Horse was very good about tailoring Ray’s punishments to fit him.

Ray wondered how long it had been. He desperately wanted to look at the clock, but he knew that would not be allowed, and he was too afraid to find out what awaited him if he misbehaved during his time in the corner. He swallowed dryly, and closed his eyes, trying to think of anything but the prickers poking the enraged skin of his ass and thighs.

“All right,” Crow Horse said after an eternity. “Come here, and we’ll finish up.”

Ray stood up shakily, the pain in his rear only worse once the air hit it. He limped over to Crow Horse where he was sitting at the edge of the bed. He lowered himself gingerly across Crow Horse’s lap; Crow Horse’s steady hands adjusted him a bit, then rested on Ray’s body, one at the nape of his neck and one in the small of his back.

“What am I going to do with you?” Crow Horse said softly.

Ray wished he had an answer. He held his tongue, waited for the hand spanking to begin. And it did, soon. Crow Horse started smacking Ray’s backside lightly with his flat palm, irritating the already angry flesh. Ray moaned, grabbed the bedcovers in his fist and squeezed. The spanking became gradually harder, although Crow Horse stayed at a slow, purposeful tempo, only four or five smacks a minute. He was going to stretch this out, and Ray had no choice but to endure it. 

The smacks were hard now, though still far apart. One blow landed, and Ray’s damaged flesh had enough time to absorb the pain into his muscles before the next one hit. It was excruciating. Ray began crying out every time Crow Horse’s hand fell heavily against his backside; it started as soft grunts but soon escalated into desperate shouts. He wanted this over. He wanted it over now. He had only been playing before; a little willfulness wasn’t worth this. Although, he thought, he _had_ been deliberately disobedient. And that was not to be tolerated. That, more than flares of anger that led to holes in the wall or forgetfulness that led to neglect of chores and duties, earned him the harshest punishments. The only thing he got punished worse for was lying, although that, too, was a conscious effort to misbehave. So maybe Crow Horse had a point: his attitude _did_ desperately need changing, and this was the way to go about it.

Ray’s breath went short as impossibly hard blows landed against his bottom. He heard himself yell out, and it sounded like a desperate child’s voice: tear-tinged shouts of _ow ow ow ow ow!_ The first tear fell across his cheek; his mouth trembled, and Crow Horse began spanking him even harder, knowing that Ray was close to repentance. It was too much. Ray cried, his shouts devolving into ugly, uncontrollable _boohoos_. Crow Horse’s tempo slowed even more—three smacks a minute, then two, then one, then gradually it was over. Ray wasn’t being spanked anymore, the punishment over, but he lay over Crow Horse’s lap and sobbed. Crow Horse rubbed the heel of his hand between Ray’s shoulder blades until he quieted. 

When the tears had dried themselves up, Crow Horse said, “I hope you learned your lesson, Ray.”

Ray’s lip trembled, but no more tears fell. “Yes, sir,” he rasped.

Crow Horse patted Ray’s shoulder. “Good. Good.”

Crow Horse stood, pulling Ray to his feet. Ray swallowed thickly until he could breathe again. Crow Horse spent a good while watching him, cradling Ray’s face in his hands, wiping the tear tracks from his cheeks away with his thumbs. 

“I ain’t sorry I had to do that, you know,” Crow Horse said.

“_I_ am,” Ray moaned.

Crow Horse nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

He glanced at the clock; it was past suppertime. They’d been in here a long while.

“I’m going to go fix supper,” Crow Horse said. “You can come help, or you can spend a little time in here by yourself, licking your wounds.”

Ray sniffled. “That one, I think.”

“I thought so.” Crow Horse kissed him gently. He patted his cheek. “Be a good boy for me, Ray.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him. Still naked, Ray crawled onto the bed on his belly. It hurt to move; his bottom was swollen, the skin over it stretched taut, and that only made the pain more pronounced. Ray buried his face in his pillow. He breathed in slowly, then reached his hand back and cupped his bottom. He rubbed his hand over the abused flesh, feeling the welts from the belt and the knots of bruises coming up in his seat; there were tiny pits dotting the flesh from the prickers. He wondered how long it would be before he could sit down comfortably. At least a few days.

And he wondered how long it would be before he ended up testing Crow Horse’s boundaries again. More than a few days, he hoped, but nothing was for sure. Sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. That’s why he needed Crow Horse to help him.

Ray rubbed his bottom, and listened to Crow Horse putter around the kitchen, banging pots and pans and humming tunelessly. All things considered, it was a pretty good life he had here.  



End file.
